


Camellia’s Call

by green_and_gold



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AFAB reader - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Hanahaki Disease, Pining, so much pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 05:00:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26467582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/green_and_gold/pseuds/green_and_gold
Summary: It all started with a mere sneeze.Perhaps that wasn't completely fair to say. Sneezes are not always such a mere occurrence. Sure, they can be considered non-trivial, every day reactions to specks of dust that tickled just the right parts of the insides of your nostrils. Certainly nothing life-changing. And never would you normally think that a mere sneeze could ever be life-threatening.But as you stood there in the kitchen, body frozen even as a hot mug of tea warmed your palms, and stared hard at the object that had just made its home on the floor by your feet, you began to think differently. As the signals from your eyes finally made their way through to your sluggish morning brain, and you briefly remembered thinking how weird it was to feel a tickle both in your nose and the back of your throat, you realized that this was no ordinary sneeze.So, no, it wasn't at all fair to say that a simple sneeze was the beginning of the end.It was, after all, the fault of the delicate, pink petal that now rested on the ground in front of you that had caused you to sneeze in the first place.
Relationships: Severus Snape x Reader, Severus x Reader - Relationship, snape x reader - Relationship
Comments: 9
Kudos: 39





	Camellia’s Call

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alma_Rohe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alma_Rohe/gifts).



> Well, here’s a fic trope I’ve never written before but has always fascinated me! Though I don’t know all the rules, I do know the basics, and I hope you all enjoy my take on it!
> 
> To Alma_Rohe, for being such a great, great commenter on my last fic; I really appreciated every single word, and you are truly the inspiration for this piece. Here’s your Severus fic you asked for—I certainly hope you’re a fan of Hanahaki AU’s!

It all started with a mere sneeze.

Perhaps that wasn't completely fair to say. Sneezes are not always such a mere occurrence. Sure, they can be considered non-trivial, every day reactions to specks of dust that tickled just the right parts of the insides of your nostrils. Certainly nothing life-changing. And never would you normally think that a mere sneeze could ever be life- _threatening_.

But as you stood there in the kitchen, body frozen even as a hot mug of tea warmed your palms, and stared hard at the object that had just made its home on the floor by your feet, you began to think differently. As the signals from your eyes finally made their way through to your sluggish morning brain, and you briefly remembered thinking how weird it was to feel a tickle both in your nose _and_ the back of your throat, you realized that this was no ordinary sneeze.

So, no, it wasn't at all fair to say that a simple sneeze was the beginning of the end.

It was, after all, the fault of the delicate, pink petal that now rested on the ground in front of you that had caused you to sneeze in the first place.

* * *

‘ _Fuck, shit, fuck, shit, fuck!’_

The two expletives were warring with one another to make itself known in the forefront of your mind, sending them on an endless looping stream that was muddled by the ringing in your ears. Your wide eyes were seemingly stuck on the petal, and your heart rate felt as though it had risen to match the beat of a hummingbird's wings.

Hot liquid splashed onto your toes, drops staining the soft petal and turning it a muddy brown. Drops turned into rivulets, rivulets expanding into a wide, shallow puddle that extended from the tips of your feet to the outward edges of the linoleum tile you stood on. Though it was not of significant depth, the pooling liquid was enough to raise the petal from where it rested, sending it floating down the cracks of the tiles with a grace you wished you had.

Your gaze never left the flower even as it moved, watching as it danced and twirled on its path down to the kitchen entrance, seemingly mocking you with its almost whimsical nature. Mouth as dry as a desert, you attempted to swallow, only to find that your throat constricted painfully and so you dropped your jaw back open with a gasping breath. Wide-eyed, mouth agape, and frozen to the spot is how Ron eventually found you when he moseyed over to the kitchen to have his first meal of the day.

“Bloody hell, why is the floor all wet?”

Okay, so he hadn’t quite noticed you just yet. But his exclamation was loud enough to snap you out of your stupor, causing you to whip your head up towards him with enough force that your teeth clacked together.

He was hopping up and down on one foot, holding the other as he slid off his now soiled sock. He finally managed to remove it, placing his foot down and looking up to see where the spill had originated from, only to jolt back at the sight of you staring at him.

“You scared the absolute daylights out of me! What are you doing there in the kitchen, spilling your tea all over the floor for?”

He raised his foot to take a step into the kitchen, your eyes darting down with the motion. You watched as his foot came down, almost in slow motion, to place itself directly over where the petal had concluded its journey—two square tiles from where the kitchen met the stone stairs that led up to the entry hall. It was as though you were possessed, the way you shot yourself forward, with an outstretched arm and a cry on your lips.

“Wait!”

Startled, his foot came down even harder but didn’t land on the petal itself, instead three inches to its right. He leaned back, placing a hand on his chest, and blew air out from between his lips.

“What are you shouting at me for? I should be the one yelling at you—making a bloody mess all over the kitchen floor!”

You blinked at him, slowly.

“What...?”

He moved into the room fully now, making a point to avoid stepping in any area the cooling tea had spread, and gestured wildly at you. “ You’re asking _me_ what? How could I possibly know why you decided to upend your mug?”

You looked down at your hands where the mug was still clasped, finally realizing that it had been tilted at a dangerous angle wherein its contents had been allowed to spill over the brim and onto the floor below. Righting it with shaky hands to prevent any more spillage led you to further realize that had been for naught as it was completely emptied of any tea that might have been inside. Looking to the floor, you noticed that a good portion of it was covered with the drink.

“I-I didn’t...I was just trying to—“

“Trying to what? Cause someone to trip and fall, and if that didn’t work you’d yell at them like a bloody banshee!”

_“No!_ No, I’m sorry, it was all an accident. I just didn’t want you to step on it.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a little late for that, innit?” Ron held up his tea-stained sock with a scoff.

Something about that caused a prickling in the back of your eyes. You didn’t know if it was because of everything that happened—the sight of the petal and all the implications that came with it—or for the simple fact that you were currently being scolded (by someone much younger than you, no less, and there’s a certain kind of shame that comes from that alone), but you suddenly found yourself bursting into tears.

“I didn’t mean—an accident—I only—“

You were blubbering now, and you absentmindedly made your way to the kitchen counter, placing your empty mug on top. You wrapped your fingers around the edge of the counter, gripping on tightly as though it were the only thing holding you up, and if you were to let go, you’d simply crumple to the ground never to get up again.

Ron’s face went pale before flushing a bright red. He slowly made his way over, stopping just next to where you stood. He lifted a tentative hand to place on your shoulder, but when you let out an unexpectedly loud sob, he dropped it in reconsideration. Not quite sure what else to do, he awkwardly cleared his throat, shuffled side to side on his feet, and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Look, I apologize for getting so angry. I’m not all that mad, not really. It’s only that I’ve just woken up, and I was looking forward to eating, but now my sock’s all dirty—“ Your sobs had quieted into soft whimpers by this point, but the reminder that you had caused him strife, no matter how small it was, sent your cries skyrocketing once more, and he scrambled to calm you, saying, “Why don’t I help you clean this mess up, yeah?”

You sniffled, giving him a small nod in response. Grabbing the dish towel that had been sitting next to the sink, you sank down onto your knees and attempted to mop up the nearest puddle only to find that it was in the process of drying, and so you only managed to soak up the most dense part in the middle while leaving a sticky, brown ring around the edge. Still embarrassed and now just a little bit frustrated, you took up the sopping rag and scrubbed at the tiles around you until they were rid of any trace of a possible spill.

Ron stood there a moment, eyebrows thrown up in shock. It had seemed as though you had momentarily forgotten that the two of you possessed magical abilities, therefore negating any reason for you to clean by hand. But seeing as you were in obvious distress, he didn’t point this out, choosing to grab a roll of paper towels and get down on his knees, as well. He tackled it from the other end, soaking up and scrubbing what he could until something stopped him in his tracks.

“What’s this? A flower petal?”

Your head jerked up at the question. Ron was holding the petal between his fingertips, examining it as he turned it back and forth. Your heart pounded against your chest at the sight. You worked your jaw in an effort to speak, but your voice did not want to come out. Your silence didn’t seem to phase him, and he simply shrugged, coming up with his own answer.

“Guess I should let Hermione know her flowers are wilting already. Told her to put a stasis charm on it, but she insisted they needed to live a natural life. You alright?”

He had finally turned his attention on you and became concerned at how pale you had gotten. You managed to find your voice.

“Her f-flowers..?”

He gave you a curious look.

“Yeah, you know...” he clarified when you shook your head at him, “the ones sitting on the table end next to you?”

Your gaze flew up and to the right where you saw a small vase full of blooming flowers settled on the tabletop. You slowly got to your feet, gripping the back of the chair in front of you for leverage. Once you were standing you saw that there were vases lined all along the center of the table, one every three seats.

“Oh.”

“Are you sure you’re feeling all right? You’re usually the first one to make a comment on them; odd you’d forget they exist.”

It felt as though a weight had been lifted from your chest as you released a breathy laugh. Looking at the flowers, you surmised that that is where the petal must have fallen from. No way that it came from _you_ , of all places. That was just preposterous!

You continued to laugh in relief, ignoring the odd looks Ron was sending your way. As you wiped the tears away from your eyes, this time from laughter not sadness (and certainly not from hysterics, no siree), you chose to ignore one small, tiny, minute detail about the flowers that lined the table.

They were white.


End file.
